It seems like ever since the local Memorial Day parade, Zoe has been doing non-stop cartwheels. She cartwheeled the entire parade route that day (and wondered why her arms hurt the next day) and has since gotten addicted. She cartwheels in the house, at the bus stop, off the diving board, in the pool, on the sidewalks of NYC -- just about anywhere she can find the space. Lately she's been working on one-handed an no-handed cartwheels as well.
Even though I know I did it too, I can't remember ever enjoying throwing my body around the way she does. I wasn't a cartwheel addict, but I did like rolling down hills, running races, trampoline jumping and just about any kind of jumping or diving off a diving board. These days I would be hard-pressed to do any of the above. Trampoline jumping is still fun, but you can pretty much keep the rest.
When does that change happen in our physical selves? Maybe it never happens for some people, but I think it does for most. Somewhere along the line we stop enjoying the playground and cartwheels and trampolines. Maybe it gets to dangerous or painful or maybe we get too lazy. I don't know. But I do know that I love to watch Zoe and her joy in cartwheels.